


12Days of {ugly} Christmas {sweaters}

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, Christmas Presents, Christmas Sweaters, Evan "Buck" Buckley is a Little Shit, Family Feels, Fluff, Humor, I was looking for "is a goof" but this works too, M/M, all of these sweaters actually exist btw, for the buddie discord advent, this was so much fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: "How many ugly Christmas sweaters do you own, exactly?"The answer is ... more than 12.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131
Collections: 25 (More) Days Of Buddie





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this, as many of my ideas do, got out of hand. That said, it was _so much fun_ to write, and to research, so I really can't even be that mad about it. 12 chapters, but I'm posting them all today.
> 
> My first of two contributions to the Christmas advent on the Buddie discord server. Thanks to the organizers for putting this together, and for giving me such a fun prompt to work with!

Eddie has just started packing Christopher’s lunch when he hears bells jingling up and down the hallway. He groans, pulling a long sip from his coffee – the first cup of the day, fresh from the pot, but not quite into his bloodstream yet – and abandons the half-made sandwich on the counter. 

“Chris!” He calls across the house, making his way over to the kitchen doorway. “Buddy, we talked about this. Bells are an _after-school_ toy!” 

Eddie’s head is already starting to throb, wholly unprepared for this much racket at 7:15 in the morning. 

“It’s not me, Dad!” Chris’ voice is considerably closer than the noise of the bells. When Eddie looks around the living room, instead of trying to crane his neck down the hall, he finds that Chris is telling the truth. He’s sitting on the floor, wrestling with his sneakers. Eddie watches him just long enough to make sure he’s not getting frustrated, then goes back to trying to suss out the source of the noise. 

His heart starts pounding as he wonders if there’s an intruder, some … holiday-themed burglar turned up to wreak havoc on his belongings _and_ his sanity. 

But no, it can’t be. There’s no way someone could have gotten in, not with the doors all locked, and Buck still fast asleep in Eddie’s bedroom. Besides, what kind of burglar would bring jingle bells to the home invasion, festive or otherwise? 

He doesn’t have to worry much longer, though, because the next thing he knows, Buck is jumping around the corner, landing at the edge of the living room and waving his arms back and forth. The bells are even louder now, but at least Eddie knows where they’re coming from, as he hides a grimace around his mug. 

Buck is wearing a sweater knitted to look like an elf’s body, belt and buckle stitched around the middle, candy cane-striped sleeves and all. And it’s adorned with dozens of bells, running in lines up and down his arms and scattered across the torso. 

Every time he moves, the whole sweater rattles, down to the way his shoulders are shaking as he laughs at Christohper’s excitement. 

“Whatcha got there, babe?” Eddie twists his lips into a smile, but it’s not as forced as he’d thought it would be. The sweater is driving him up the wall, sure, but he can’t be too mad about it. Not with the way it’s making his boys smile and laugh. If it were at least 8 a.m., he’s pretty sure he’d be laughing too. 

“It’s called holiday spirit, Eddie,” Buck rolls his eyes playfully, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. 

“It’s December 13th.” Eddie isn’t opposed to Christmas, by any means; the tree has been decorated since the day after Thanksgiving, and he’s bought red and green paper napkins for Chris’ lunches. 

But the _bells._ Dear god, the bells. Buck isn’t even moving right now, but Eddie can still hear them echoing inside his head. 

"Yeah, the first day of Christmas.” 

“What?” Eddie walks backward across the kitchen to finish assembling Chris’ lunch, but he can’t keep the curiosity out of his voice. 

“ Y’know, ‘on the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me …” 

“A partridge in a pear tree!” Chris shrieks from the living room. 

“Exactly! And I know, they’re technically supposed to _start_ on Christmas, and run until January, but people look at you funny if you wear the sweaters after the 25th, so here we are.” Buck shrugs, and Eddie zips the lunchbox then tops off his coffee and drops into one of the dining chairs. “It’s time to start celebrating!” 

Eddie can’t help rolling his eyes, but he’s pretty sure he makes it look affectionate. Except that Buck sees right through him, has _always_ seen right through him, and jingles his way across the kitchen to stand behind Eddie’s chair. 

“Hey, everything OK?” The noise is still grating, maybe even worse now that it’s so close, but he can feel Buck’s presence, feel the warmth radiating from his body, even through the offending garment, and there’s comfort in his proximity. Even when he’s driving Eddie nuts, Eddie wants Buck nearby, feels better just for having him close enough to touch. 

“Yeah, just … tired, still.” He takes another long drink, rubbing at his temple with his free hand. It cuts back the throbbing in his head just enough that he thinks he can make it through the morning, maybe drop by the station for some earplugs on his way back from dropping Chris off. 

But the jingling picks back up, this time right in his ears. Almost as soon as he registers the noise, before he can lean away from it, Buck’s hands are coming down on his shoulders, his fingers kneading at the tension underneath Eddie’s skin. There’s hardly enough motion for the bells to ring, once his hands are settled, and Eddie relaxes into the gentle touch. 

His eyes droop closed as he sags back into the chair, letting Buck soothe his aching shoulders. A few moments later, they flutter a bit when the jingling noises resume, but this time they’re quiet enough that it’s not as torturous as it had been a few minutes ago. 

Besides, Buck’s lips are brushing across his hairline, kissing his temple softly, like Buck somehow knows exactly where the throbbing is the worst. It’s an awkward angle, Eddie knows firsthand, arching over far enough to reach the front of his head without having to let go of his shoulders. But Buck does it anyway, knows it will make Eddie happy, even if his own back pulls taut for a moment. 

He’s always taking care of Eddie, always knows just what he needs, jingly sweaters and all. 

When Buck leans back upright, Eddie reaches across his chest to rest one of his own hands over Buck’s and squeeze his fingers lightly. 

“Eddie?” Buck doesn't stop massaging, but Eddie can feel his breath against his ear, like he’s leaning down closer to him. 

Sure enough, when he turns his head, Buck’s cheek is right there, at the perfect level for a gentle kiss. 

“Mmm, merry first day of Christmas, Buck.” 


	2. Chapter Two

The next morning, Buck and Eddie walk into the station together, change out of their LAFD hoodies and into their uniforms for the shift, just like they do every day. It’s a cool day, chilly by California standards, so Eddie isn’t surprised when Buck pulls another layer on over the top of his uniform. The shirts are short-sleeved, after all, so it’s not unusual for them to wear hoodies or something, as long as it’s easy to pull off if the bells should ring. 

What _is_ surprising though, is that he puts on a cushy red and white sweater, the words _Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal_ emblazoned across the front. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised, given Buck’s ‘12 Days of Christmas’ comment yesterday morning, but he’s still hard-pressed to keep the shock off his face as he brushes some invisible lint from Buck’s chest before they step back out to the common area. 

He doesn’t say anything about it though, just takes note of how soft the material is and hopes Buck will wear it after their shift too, when Eddie can lean against him on the sofa without worrying about keeping things above-board at work. Everyone knows about him and Buck, and he knows that, and he knows they don’t care, but they still try to keep their hands to themselves until the shift is over. 

It takes until lunch for anyone to notice, the entire team sitting around the table and tearing into the big batch of pasta salad Bobby had made that morning. The conversation fades to a lull, until Chim looks across the table and uses his fork to point at Buck’s chest as he reads the words on the sweater. 

“Now there’s a Christmas movie I can get behind,” he finishes. There’s a round of polite laughter from everyone else, but Buck is just staring at his friend. 

“What?” 

“It’s the perfect blend of cheesy, funny and festive.” The rest of the group nods, but Eddie finds himself leaning forward and raising a finger in dispute. 

“Hang on a second,” he waits for Chimney to look at him. “How do you just not notice your kid isn’t there? You know, I’ve always wondered if his mom did it on purpose. Especially the second time, in the airport.” 

“Whose mom did what?” Buck looks over at him, confusion etched into his features. 

“Kevin’s mom forgot him on vacation. And then left him at the airport.” 

“Like now?” His eyes go wide, panic pushing his voice out of its normal range. “Should we go pick him up? Hang on, does Chris know this kid?” 

“Buck, have you _seriously_ not seen the Home Alone movies?” Chim is incredulous, his eyebrows practically up to his hairline. 

“No?” The immediate terror has edged out of his voice, but he still sounds deeply concerned, and Eddie is overcome with affection at how much his boyfriend cares about people he doesn’t even know. 

People who are fictional characters, but still. His point stands. 

Hen is leading the train of protests, a barrage of comments about how they’re classic holiday films, and everyone needs to watch them, and how did he live this long and never see a Home Alone film? Buck looks between them all, and back at Eddie, as he tries to piece together everything that’s happened in the last few minutes. 

But before he can say anything, the alarm is going off, the noise reverberating through the station. Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone hurries for the steps, and Buck tosses the sweater over the banister, dropping it onto the sofa as he jogs for the pole. Eddie reaches for his arm, pulls him back so Chimney can drop down to the garage ahead of them. 

“Hey, move marathon tonight?” Eddie whispers, running his thumb along Buck’s bicep, just barely underneath the fabric of his shirt sleeve. He looks around, and there are still a few guys waiting to descend, so he knows he’s got a couple seconds, if not much more. “Chris can watch the original before bed, and the first two are really the only ones worth watching” 

Buck grins cheekily as he responds, “It’s a date.” 

“You know,” Eddie drops his arm and starts toward the opening in the floor. “That line is a lot less cute when we’ve been dating five months.” 

“Is it really?” Buck shrugs as he follows Eddie down the pole, and together, they reach for their turnout coats. 

Eddie waits to respond until they’re climbing into the rig, when he can swat the back of Buck’s head without anyone noticing. 

“Nah, it’s still cute. But just for that, you can bring the pizza _and_ the MMs tonight. And wear the sweater, it’s soft.” 


	3. Chapter Three

Eddie’s phone vibrates almost as soon as Buck should be back across town to his apartment after their movie night. He’d only left the house about 20 minutes ago, but apparently got back to find the entertainment center he’d ordered sitting in front of his door. 

Unassembled. 

So as soon as Eddie has Chris dropped off at school, he’s driving over to the apartment, two steaming coffee cups tucked into the console. He knocks on the door, then pushes it open, knowing Buck had said he’d left it unlocked. 

But just like Eddie had hoped, Buck is almost right in front of him, smiling ear to ear as soon as he sees Eddie, even though they’d only parted ways an hour and a half ago. He presses one of the cups into Buck’s hands, leaning in to kiss him softly by way of greeting. 

It’s meant to be short and chaste, especially with the two hot drinks wedged between them. But before he knows it, Eddie’s free hand is settling on Buck’s side, his fingers tucked right underneath his rib cage. 

He’d expected Buck to change clothes when he got home, but the scratchy fabric beneath his hand is unfamiliar. Eddie pulls back, leaving his hand wrapped around Buck’s middle, holding him at arm’s length just far enough away to drag his gaze along Buck’s newly donned shirt. 

It's another Christmas sweater – _of course_ it’s another Christmas sweater – and Eddie finds himself laughing before he knows what’s really going on. 

“Buck,” he says, stepping back just enough to create the illusion of personal space between them. “How many Christmas sweaters do you own, exactly?” 

“I told you, man. 12 days of Christmas.” 

“So … 12?” 

“I … never said _that.”_ He at least has the decency to look sheepish about it, though, when Eddie raises an eyebrow. “What? A guy needs options, Eddie. Besides, what if my boyfriend wants to borrow one someday?” 

His _boyfriend._ The easy way Buck throws the word around stops Eddie in his tracks, every time. They’re _dating._ Buck is his _boyfriend._ It never gets old, even when his boyfriend is wearing an itchy sweater, lime green and bright red on a black background. Santa Claus is standing behind a turntable, spinning records for the elves dancing on Buck’s stomach. There’s a disco ball on one shoulder, and the words “Ho Ho Yo” stitched across the center. 

Somehow, though Eddie couldn’t begin to explain it, Buck pulls it off. It fits him perfectly, and he looks so excited about the pun that it’s somehow flattering. But the fact remains that it’s tacky and gaudy and wouldn’t look half this good on anybody else. 

“Generous offer, but my festive attire is limited to red and green stripes.” Eddie laughs as he drops down beside Buck on the floor. Together, they cut open the cardboard box in front of them and start sorting through the panels and brackets and bolts inside. 

They’re pressed together from elbow to hip, Buck’s knee resting on top of Eddie’s. The contact makes their task challenging; the arms in the middle keep getting in the way. But still, they don’t move apart, treasuring every moment of physical contact they can share. 

“But you love wearing my hoodies,” Buck pretends to pout as he passes Eddie the end of the shelf he needs. “How is this any different?” 

Eddie slides the bolt into the marked hole, picks up the wrench and carefully avoids elbowing Buck as he attaches the shelf to its base. It’s a simple task, repetitive motion, mindless enough that he can turn to look at Buck while he works. 

His lips are pursed, eyebrows pushed together as he widens his eyes. It’s the same look Chris wears when he’s trying to convince Eddie to let him have dessert before dinner, or watch an extra 20 minutes of TV before bedtime. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d swear that Buck had learned it from his kid, for all they look alike. 

Luckily for Buck, he’s had a soft spot for that face since the first time he saw it. It’s not a guaranteed ‘yes,’ but it’s enough to have Eddie sighing heavily. 

“Fine,” he relents, without a hint of animosity in his voice. “Maybe.” 

“Yes!” Buck’s eyes light up, and Eddie is sure that he’s already flipping through his mental closet, trying to decide which sweaters to offer up. 

_“We’ll see,”_ Eddie says, leaning forward to emphasize his point. “I said ‘we’ll see.’” 

But Eddie knows a losing battle when he sees one, and he’s got a feeling that Buck knows it too. If an ugly sweater is all it takes to keep Buck smiling like that, then it’s really just a matter of time. 


	4. Chapter Four

Buck had answered the text as soon as it had arrived, a near-desperate plea from Eddie to come help Chris with a book report. Apparently, Eddie had spent the better part of their day off trying to help his son make sense of _A Christmas Carol,_ and neither of them had gotten anywhere productive. 

As a last ditch effort, Eddie had offered a compromise: Chris had to do the book report (even if he thought it was a stupid paper about a boring book), but Eddie would see if Buck could come over and help. 

He wasn’t even remotely surprised when Buck had said he’d come over as soon as the groceries were put away, and 20 minutes later, he’s knocking on Eddie’s front door. Eddie hears the door open as he rounds the corner from the kitchen, and smiles at the sight of Buck trying to kick the door closed behind him as he fumbles to pull his jacket off. 

“Hey, thanks for this. I’ve spent all day trying to get through to the kid, but it’s a ‘boring book about weird old ghosts.’” Eddie sighs as he crosses the room to latch the door and kiss Buck hello. “He’s not _wrong,_ but that doesn’t mean it makes a good book report.” 

“Fair enough,” Buck chuckles and toes off his shoes. “I would’ve been over sooner, but frozen corn waits for no man. Besides, I had to change sweaters; couldn’t pass this one up.” 

At that, Eddie looks down to see what Buck has picked today. It’s bright red, but he’d noticed that as soon as Buck was in the door. The bottom is adorned with three puffy sheep, all holding little books. Music notes scatter in haphazard lines up the middle, to where the words _Baa Humbug_ are stitched across his chest. 

“Nice choice,” Eddie laughs, running his finger along the text as an excuse to touch Buck. “Very thematic.” 

Before he can say anything else, Chris is clambering down the hallway and throwing his arms around Buck’s middle. 

“Buck!” He looks up and pouts. “I have to do a book report.” 

“So I hear. But I bet we can get through it together. C’mon, you ready for the classic stylings of Dickens?” He steps toward the living room, untangling Chris from his legs enough that he can walk. 

“I guess,” he whines, but his face lights up when he sees what Buck is wearing. “Ooh, a sheep sweater!” 

“Yep! Thought I’d take the whole ‘wool sweater’ thing literally,” Buck laughs as he sits down beside Chris, on the floor in front of the coffee table. There’s a paperback book and almost a dozen false starts to the report littering the surface, but Buck doesn’t say anything about them. Instead, he smiles as Chris reads the front of his sweater and blinks at him in confusion. 

“Buck? What’s a ‘humbug?’” 

“Well now I _know_ you haven’t finished the reading yet.” Buck rolls his eyes jokingly, and Eddie has to admit that he’s impressed with how quickly he was able to figure out Chris’ fib, without berating the kid about it. 

“We’re supposed to read it _together!”_ Which hadn’t been part of the assignment sheet when Eddie looked it over, but Chris almost seems excited about the report now, and Buck doesn’t look at all put out at the notion, so he’s not going to say anything. 

“Alright, we’ll read it, and then you’ll find out what a humbug is.” Buck reaches for the book, and Eddie takes it as his cue to go figure out a plan for dinner. 

40 minutes later, he’s standing over the stove, stirring a pot of rice and waiting for the smell of Abuela’s enchiladas to fill the kitchen. The last time he’d caught a cold, she had stocked the freezer with enough homecooked meals to feed him and Chris for a month, even though he’d only been sick for three days. He’s not complaining though, it’s left him with plenty of quick dinners when he doesn’t feel like trying to pull something together himself. 

He can hear her voice in the back of his head now, chastising him for using canned refried beans. But at least he’s boiling his own rice, even squeezed in a little bit of lime juice to spice things up a little bit. Besides, the easier he makes dinner, the more time he can spend watching Buck and Chris reading together in the other room. 

It’s a heartwarming moment, the way Chris has tucked himself against Buck’s side, is holding one side of the book and leaning closer so he can see better. Buck lets him take his time, waits patiently when he fumbles over unfamiliar words like ‘benevolence’ and ‘reproach.’ 

Eddie is focused on the pan of beans, trying to decide if he needs to add a little bit more water, when he hears Chris shout “Bah Humbug!” again, then laugh loudly. 

“I get it, Buck! Like a sheep says ‘baa,’ like the sheeps on your sweater!” Buck’s laughter fills the house, bright and joyful. It’s the kind of relentless enthusiasm Buck has brought to their lives almost every single day they’ve known each other. 

He turns around, leaning against the counter to memorize everything he can about this moment. There’s warmth blossoming in his chest, from more than just the heat of the stove, and a single thought cycling through his head. 

_Sheep or no sheep, there’s nothing Bah Humbug about the holidays this year._


	5. Chapter Five

Eddie hears the front door open and smiles in anticipation. He knows it’ll be Buck, knows they’re stealing a quiet evening to themselves for holiday movies that _aren’t_ G-rated in exchange for Denny sleeping over the week after Christmas. 

What he doesn’t know, as he shifts the bowl of popcorn to the crook of one arm and turns away from the microwave, is why his living room looks like a brigade of rainbow-colored fire trucks are parked out front. The idea makes him chuckle softly, but there are colorful lights flashing off of the walls, and he _knows_ they put white bulbs on the tree this year. 

He shouldn’t be surprised when Buck turns out to be the source of the lights. He isn’t surprised, really, to see the lights moving up and down as Buck bends over to stack his shoes neatly beside the door. They’ve been doing this all week, so he probably should have figured that it was going to be something to do with a Christmas sweater. 

Still, when Buck stands back up, Eddie has to shield his eyes against the lights. The lights in the house are off, which only serves to intensify the brightness, but the sweater illuminates the space enough that he can see the grin on Buck’s face. 

And it’s all worth it, really, for the way Buck is smiling, like he’s singlehandedly responsible for all of the Christmas spirit in LA this year. For all Eddie knows, he might be; Buck tends to have that effect on people. 

“Alright, hey,” Eddie says by way of a greeting. “No sneaking up on people with this one, huh?” He steps in close enough to lean up for a kiss, expertly sliding the popcorn behind his back when he feels Buck reach toward the bowl. Buck pinches his side gently, just enough pressure to make him squirm as he steps back, laughing into the end of the kiss. 

“Please, as if you’d ever not notice me.” 

Eddie flips the switch for the overhead light, hoping it’ll soften the lights just enough that he can actually see Buck, not just the shadows of his face amidst the colorful glow. It gives him his first real look at the sweater, a soft-looking black knit with _jingle all the way_ running across the front in a loopy cursive. Tiny lightbulbs pepper the space around and between the letters, steadily blinking on and off. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he can’t help the smile spreading across his face, can’t _ever_ help giving into it when Buck starts poking for affection. “What, no bells?” He points at Buck’s chest and watches his boyfriend’s face wrinkle in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Jingle all the way … like jingle bells?” He’s teasing, really. Sure, the slogan doesn’t really fit, but Eddie is pretty sure that’s part of the charm of this particular sweater. 

Still, Buck’s face falls. 

“You … don’t like it?” 

“I like seeing you in it.” It’s a deflection, and Eddie knows it, but he’s trying to find something lighthearted and goofy enough to make Buck smile again. 

“Not the same thing.” Because of course Buck would catch on to what he’s doing. He just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say here; somehow it feels like a loaded question and Eddie can’t figure out what the right answer is supposed to be. 

Aside from the honest one, but he just doesn’t know what he’s _supposed_ to think this time. 

“It’s … unexpected,” he tries again. 

“That means ugly.” 

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” _And there’s the trap he’d been trying to avoid._

Because Buck is right, it _is_ ugly. But it’s an Ugly Christmas Sweater, in every possible sense of the word. Calling it anything else feels like a farce, but he’d known better than to say so outright. 

“Only if you like it.” Of course. Eddie should have caught on sooner; he knows Buck thrives on validation, on knowing that he’s leaving a positive impact on the world, and especially on the people he loves. This isn’t about the sweater. It’s about whether or not Eddie is happy with him. 

Which should be a no-brainer, but Eddie knows it’s not always that simple. 

“Who cares if I like it? I like _you,_ and I like you wearing things that make you happy.” He steps back in close, relieved when Buck doesn’t move away, and pats up and down his torso until he finds the switch and stops the flickering lights. “There, now I can see _you._ And I like seeing you way better than any sweater.” 

He runs his fingers across Buck’s chest, up his shoulder until one thumb is stroking along a cheekbone. Buck smiles and leans into the touch. 

“Really?” 

“Really. Especially when I can see both you _and_ the sweater.” Eddie kisses him softly. “Besides, I happen to like the unexpected thing. It’s very _you.”_

“I’m a … light-up jingle sweater?” His brow furrows again, but this time Buck doesn’t look upset, just confused. 

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, trying to find the words to explain the metaphor that had made perfect sense in his head. “Just when I think I know where you’re going, you throw me a curve, something totally unexpected. 

“And,” he grins, patting Buck’s face twice. “You’re bright as hell.” 

At that, Buck smiles and ducks his head, like he does when he gets more praise than he thinks he warrants. Sometimes, Eddie pushes a little harder, finds a few more sappy things to say just so he can watch the blush spread across Buck’s cheeks. 

But tonight, he lets it drop, doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. They both know exactly how much Eddie cares, just how highly he thinks of Buck, and there’s no sense in saying it when he knows it’ll only make Buck uneasy. 

“C’mon,” he says instead, reaching for one of Buck’s hands as he steps back. “You ready? I’ve got _Office Christmas Party_ all queued up.” 

That wins him over, Buck’s face nearly splitting in two when he smiles at the realization that Eddie had remembered his favorite grown-up Christmas movie. 

“See?” Eddie taps a finger against Buck’s nose as he walks backward, leading them over to the sofa. Together, they sit down, Eddie tucked sideways against one corner with a leg stretching out across the cushions so Buck can lay against his chest and let his feet hang over the other end. He wraps a blanket across them both, making sure it gets all the way down to cover Buck’s toes, and presses a kiss against the side of his head. 

“Brighter than every light on that sweater.” 


	6. Chapter Six

The next morning, Buck drives back to his apartment while Eddie gets Chris from the Wilsons’ and drops him off at school, then Eddie swings by to pick him up for work. They’re running a little ahead of schedule, which hardly ever happens, but Eddie has learned not to ask the universe too many questions when it does. 

Instead, he calls Buck on his way out of the drop-off line and suggests that they go grocery shopping before work, take care of the things on the regular list and pick something fun to cook together after shift. 

He can practically hear Buck’s smile through the phone, knows exactly what it looks like before he’s even climbed into the truck. Eddie reaches for his hand as soon as his seatbelt is fastened, feels the telltale scratchy acrylic against his wrist. 

Truly, no matter what the design, Eddie has no idea how Buck can stand to wear these day after day. He’d be itching out of his skin within the hour, he’s almost sure of it. 

But the morning traffic is too congested for him to steal a glance at today’s design. As it is, it’s all he can do to avoid getting hit before they park way in the back of the grocery store lot, the first spot he can find where his truck will fit. 

They walk side by side into the store, and when Eddie gets a cart, he tugs Buck’s hand with his to wrap around the handle. He leans into Buck’s side as they try to decide between smoked or honey roasted ham slices, and Buck runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair while they pick boxes of cereal for the week’s breakfasts. 

He almost forgets about the sweater, until a little girl appears at the end of their cart, pointing at Buck and giggling. 

Eddie feels his stomach sink, and Buck’s hand tightens around his. His grip softens a moment later, though, when they both realize that she’s laughing at his shirt, not the two men holding hands in the aisle. Her mother is coming up behind her too, tugging her arm down gently. 

“Honey, it’s not polite to point at people,” she admonishes, but when she looks up to Buck’s chest, she’s hiding her own snickers. 

“Sorry, mister,” she looks appropriately chastised, half-hiding behind her mother’s legs. 

“It’s alright, I wear them to make people laugh,” Buck smiles and bends down, putting himself at the child’s eye level. “I’m glad you like it!” 

She nods again, and high fives Buck when he holds his hand out, then follows her mother back down the aisle. When Buck stands back up, Eddie pushes the cart far enough forward that he can step in front of Buck and look at the garment. 

“Shrek, really?” Eddie looks Buck up and down, taking in his fashion choice for the day. There’s a gingerbread man plastered across his torso, wearing a frosting frown with half a leg broken off. 

“No!” He argues. “Gingy had _a_ candy cane! I had _crutches,_ like the sweater!” 

On a second glance, Buck is right. The character on his shirt has peppermint swirl sticks shoved underneath both arms. 

… Just like Buck, while his own leg healed last year. 

“Did you get that made custom?” He wouldn’t put it past Buck, is the thing. If anyone he knows would invest in an ugly Christmas sweater custom designed to mirror his own injury, it would be Buck. 

But somehow, Buck’s answer is even better. 

“Nope! Found it at the mall last year.” He grins proudly. “Really, I had no choice but to get it.” 

He makes a point, Eddie has to admit. A sweater this specifically relevant is almost too good for anyone to pass up. And Buck isn’t just anyone. 

“C’mon,” Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand again, leans in to kiss him softly and pulls him back to the cart. “We’ve still got half of the list left, and there has to be time to run home before work. If Chim eats Chris’ Lunchables out of the fridge at the station again, candy cane crutches will be the least of our worries.” 


	7. Chapter Seven

Eddie’s phone vibrates just as he’s climbing into his truck, a box of snowman-printed goodie bags on the seat next to him. He fits the key into the ignition, lets it hang there while he swipes across the screen to open the message from Buck. 

_Running late,_ it says. _Meet you at the school?_

Eddie wonders what could be going on, because Buck has a knack for always being early for everything, especially if Chris is involved. But he’s still coming, and the message doesn’t read with any sort of distress, so Eddie just replies with a thumbs up and backs out of the driveway. 

As soon as he’s checked in at the office, he's down the hall to Chris’ classroom, helping set up Pin The Nose On The Snowman before everyone comes back in from recess. They manage, but only barely, and then Eddie is so busy helping keep up with 24 fourth graders that he can hardly wonder just how late Buck is going to be. 

But he turns around, leaves the other parent volunteers to make sure no one walks blindfolded into a desk, intending to check his phone, see if he’s missed a text in the last few minutes. He doesn’t even get the device out of his pocket, though, before he looks up and sees Buck coming through the doorway. 

On instinct, his feet carry him across the room, meeting Buck halfway for a quick hug. His hands slide underneath Buck’s sportscoat, wrapping around his back before he leans away to see why, exactly, Buck is wearing a sportscoat to a grade school holiday party. 

When Eddie gets to look at the suit, the first thing he notices is just how _blue_ it is. Royal blue, the same shade as the crayon Christopher uses to color the ocean, patterned with red and white fair isle, reindeer and stars and stripes. 

It’s tacky as all hell, from the lapels right down to the hem of the slacks brushing against his ankles, but somehow a perfect fit for Buck, both in size and personality. The pants taper, showing off the length of his legs, and the jacket is just the right amount of snug across Buck’s shoulders. Underneath, he’s left an extra button undone on his dress shirt, showing off just a hint of his sharp collarbones. His shoes are shined, like he’d gotten them ready just for this, and something tugs in Eddie’s chest at just how much Buck _cares._ He put on a _suit,_ for a class party, when almost every parent there is wearing something casual. 

“Hey, glad you could make it,” Eddie says, running a hand down Buck’s back to steer him across the room. He leans over to whisper in his ear as they find a spot at the back of the cluster of parents, everyone watching their child’s turn at taping a paper carrot on the snowman outline. “Thanks for keeping me sane around all these PTA moms.” 

Buck huffs out a quiet laugh and folds his arms over his chest as he tips his chin down to whisper back. 

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. This is supposed to be the biggest gala of the year.” There’s hardly any sarcasm in his tone, until he gets to the word ‘gala;’ even if he’s exaggerating the dramatics, Eddie knows he’s honest about wanting to be here. 

“A blue-tie affair, is it?” The group dissipates as the game ends, and Eddie brings his voice a little closer to its normal volume as he and Buck start ribbing each other lightly. 

“It’s called ‘seasonal attire,’” Buck rolls his eyes, and Eddie reciprocates the expression as he responds. 

“And the sweaters you’ve been wearing all week?” 

“I needed to dress up!” He brushes invisible lint from his lapels – not that it would show even if there were anything there, around the ostentatious pattern. “This is a special occasion. I can do better than a sweater.” 

Buck chuckles at his own rhyme, and Eddie smiles at him. 

“Clearly,” He’s trying for mock irritation, but there’s no malice in his voice. 

“Well one of us had to put in some effort.” 

Eddie follows Buck’s gaze down to his own red Henley and faded jeans, a school visitor’s sticker stuck haphazardly on his chest, occupying the space his badge usually takes up when he’s on duty. 

“I just didn’t want to show you up.” 

It’s halfway true; as much as the suit came as a surprise, Eddie had figured Buck would turn up in another outlandish sweater. That hadn’t played into his own wardrobe selection today, though. If he’s honest, he’d been doing good to remember that he should probably wear red or green to the party. 

“Mmm, sure,” Buck nods slowly, and it’s obvious that he’s not buying into Eddie’s words. 

“Really,” Eddie protests, stepping closer again so he can lower his voice. “If I outdress you, then I’m not dating the best looking guy here.” 

“Oh, so it’s like that?” Buck smirks. Eddie’s heart pounds; if they weren’t at Chris’ school, he’d kiss the expression from Buck’s face. As it is, he glances around the room and sees that they’re starting to set up for the party snack. 

“Like what?” Eddie steps away again. “Like I could use a second set of hands passing out the sprinkle cups?” 

“Tease,” Buck sticks his tongue out. 

“You started it.” There’s still enough distraction from the rest of the party that no one is paying any attention to the way Buck and Eddie are talking to each other as the set up cookie decorating supplies at each desk. “How does that suit look so good on you?” 

“It’s all about the accessories, Eds. For instance, I paired this with a hearty dose of my natural charm.” Buck presses his lips together, his eyes curling up as he smiles. 

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” Eddie pinches his side as he walks past, winking at Buck when he squirms away from the touch 

“Shush,” but he’s grinning, rolling his eyes with bemused affection. “I want to enjoy the party.” 

Chris has just noticed that Buck is here, is waving madly and shouting his name across the room. Buck waves back with just as much enthusiasm, and Eddie smiles as he leans over to whisper to Buck again. 

“Fine, we’ll settle this at home.” 

Buck sidesteps him on his way to give Chris a better greeting. But before he walks away, he puffs out his chest and raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh, we will. Trust me, we will.” 


	8. Chapter Eight

Eddie stops at the store on his way back from dropping Chris off with Hen and Karen for the afternoon. He picks out four rolls of colorful wrapping paper, grabs a couple bags of bows and a new roll of tape, hurries through the self-check and finishes the drive home. 

He owns Hen yet another solid after this, probably at least two nights of free babysitting, for both kids. She hadn’t said what she’s got planned, but Chris and Denny had talked about it at school, and Chris was all but shoving Eddie out the door when he dropped him off, saying something about spoiling a Christmas craft surprise. If the kids have any say, it’ll probably involve paint or glitter, if not both. 

He knows he’ll find out soon enough, that Chris has never been able to keep a secret for more than 20 minutes. 

Besides, this gives him a child-free afternoon, something he rarely tries to make time for. When he’s not at work, he likes to spend as much time as he can with Chris, be as involved as he can, as much as he can. But parenting intentions aside, it’s hard to wrap Chris’ presents when he’s at home, could appear at any moment with a question to ask or story to tell. 

As it is, Eddie had almost blown his birthday gift by assuming that his kid would be asleep a full hour after he’d gone to bed. It turns out that 20 minutes to wrap a couple of video games is too much for a single father to ask for. 

But today, he’s got the house to himself. Himself, and Buck, who should be on the way over to “help.” Which Eddie is pretty sure actually means “hang out and make fun of his lopsided corner folds,” but he welcomes Buck’s company whenever he can get it. 

He pulls forward at a red light and laughs to himself as he wonders if Buck will have a special giftwrapping sweater. 

And sure enough, he does. 

15 minutes later, Eddie is turning onto his street, glancing up in the rearview mirror to see an easily recognizable Jeep right behind him. 

_Perfectly timed._

He slides out of the truck, waits at the front door for Buck to park right beside him and follow him up the driveway. Buck’s hands in his pockets pull his lightweight jacket far enough across his body that Eddie can’t make out the design, but he catches a glimpse of a bright green collar sticking out of the top. 

They walk into the house together, and Buck shrugs out of his jacket to reveal a red sweater, two bold stripes of green crisscrossing at the middle of his torso. There’s a bow in the center, loops of bright green ribbon sticking out, and underneath it, a fabric nametags dangles against Buck’s stomach. 

_From Santa,_ it reads, in a mockery of childish handwriting. 

Eddie tries to restrain himself, but snorts anyway, unable to keep complete control of his reactions. 

“What?” Buck asks, but the look on his face says that he knows exactly _what._

“You actually have a wrapping-themed sweater,” Eddie laughs, reaching for Buck’s hand to pull him close enough for Eddie to loop his arms around Buck’s waist. 

Buck looks down at his own chest and starts laughing hard enough that he has to step back, break himself away from Eddie’s hold. 

“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t even think of that this morning?” He’s regained enough composure to stand upright, wipes under his eyes as he continues. “This has nothing to do with wrapping presents. It’s just about you.” 

“Me?” Eddie’s brow furrows. “Why me?” 

Buck’s face flushes pink, and he won’t look any higher than Eddie’s chest. 

“Because we have the house to ourselves, and …” he moves to stand right behind Eddie, pulls him so their bodies are flush. “I know you don’t _love_ wrapping presents,” Buck tucks his face into Eddie’s neck and presses a soft kiss against his skin. “So I figured I’d … let you unwrap one when we’re finished.” 

“Are you … bribing me with sex?” Eddie knows the answer; he just can’t believe it. 

“”Think of it more as … no dessert until the chores are done.” 

“That’s the exact definition of a bribe.” 

“Are you turning it down?” Buck smirks. Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches for the nearest roll of wrapping paper to pop Buck across the back of his head. 

“No, I’m saying we’d better get started, because I know how many things you’ve picked up for Chris. And now we have to wrap them all.” 

Buck’s face falls with the realization that there’s a hidden catch to spoiling Chris at the holidays, but he shakes it off and snatches the paper from Eddie’s hand. 

Between the two of them, it still takes close to three hours to wrap everything, part of the time sitting back to back as they wrapped gifts for each other. Eddie had considered doing that sometime when Buck wasn’t hanging around, but all of the supplies were already out, and for reasons he’ll never understand, Buck had brought his present for Eddie with him, so they decided to run with it. 

Besides, this way he has an excuse to sit closer to Buck, close enough to feel the heat of their backs pressed together even through the ridiculously thick sweater. He can feel the fabric making him itchy, in spite of his own shirt protecting him from the cheap fiber, but it’s worth it anyway, for the way he can hear Buck’s excited sounds as he puts the finishing touches on Eddie’s gift. 

When they turn back around, Eddie wonders if Buck was a professional gift wrapper in a past life. His own present has uneven folds and a little patch taped across one end where the paper was too short, but Buck’s face still lights up, even as Eddie apologizes for the mess. 

“Eds, I already love it.” Buck pulls the package from his hands and sets it on the table, then moves in close enough to peel a rogue bit of tape from Eddie’s cheek. 

How it got there, neither of them will ever know, but together they look around and survey the damage. 

The floor is littered with little trimmings of paper, stubby ends that were too small for the next present and edges Buck had expertly trimmed away. They’re both covered in pieces of tape, stray nametags where one or the other of them had written the wrong name in the “to” blank, ink scribbles on their hands from where pens had stopped working. 

Eddie reaches for Buck’s shoulder, pulls away a shiny blue bow that had wound up stuck to his sweater and presses it against the top of his gift 

“There, now it’s perfect.” He means it, he realizes, as he looks at the pile of packages on the kitchen table. The bow was a finishing touch on Buck’s gift, but it’s about more than that. He’s thinking about everything Buck had picked out for Chris, how carefully he’d considered the wrapping paper options for each and every gift. 

It’s _perfect._

But it’s also done now, and he can’t help but sigh in relief when he realizes that he doesn’t have to wrap any more presents until next year. Which won’t be his problem for at least 11 months. 

Besides, he’s got something else to focus on now. 

“You know,” Eddie feels one corner of his mouth twist up as he takes a couple of steps and runs one hand over Buck’s chest. “After all this effort, it’s a shame we’re about to start unwrapping right away.” 

“What?” Buck blinks at him, and Eddie can’t tell if he’s trying to play to a bit or if he’d just forgotten his earlier suggestion. 

Either way, he laughs as he reaches for Buck’s hands and pulls him through the living room. Buck follows him on instinct, but he’s clearly still confused until Eddie stops them both at the end of the hallway. He leans in to kiss Buck, slotting their mouths together and pressing himself flush against Buck’s torso, then reaches blindly until he can pull on the nametag tied to Buck’s sweater. 

When he leans back, Buck’s eyes are cloudy, but his smile says it all: he remembers, he’d known exactly what he was doing, let’s get the show on the road. 

Eddie lets his hands wander down to the hem of Buck’s sweater, twists his fingers into the fabric and pulls lightly. They both laugh as Buck lets himself be drawn in, until Eddie slides his fingers a few inches over and squeezes gently. 

“Get over here,” he growls teasingly. “I want to see what you’ve got for me to unwrap.” 


	9. Chapter Nine

Over team breakfast the other day, right before the end of a shift, Bobby had reminded everyone that he and Athena were hosting a cookie decorating party on the 21st. As the meal had ended, and everybody had tried not to jinx things and get them called out 20 minutes before they could go home, Eddie had watched Buck approach their captain and ask if he could ask a question. 

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” 

“It’s, uh, for the cookie thing, do you have an extra apron, or should I bring one with me?” 

“You should be fine, Buck. Just wear old clothes, and I wouldn’t worry about it.” Bobby shrugs with one shoulder and Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Bring my own, then. Got it.” 

Eddie hadn’t paid the short conversation any more mind until now, when he’s parked in front of Buck’s apartment, waiting for him to climb into the truck and set a plastic bag in the floorboard. 

His jacket is zipped, even though it’s not particularly cold outside, even by LA standards. Eddie wonders what he’s hiding underneath, but he knows that Buck has a flair for the dramatic, is probably waiting for some kind of reveal when they get to the party. 

And sure enough, he won’t let Athena take his coat at the door, insists on wearing it into the kitchen and pulling it off with a flourish to get everyone’s attention as he shows off today’s sweater. 

It’s bright blue, the words “let it dough” stitched thrice across the chest. The Pillsbury doughboy jumps for joy on his stomach, on top of geometric stripes patterned with trees and snowflakes and little crescent rolls. 

He drapes his coat over the back of a chair and brandishes a sweater from his bag. It’s made from clear plastic, and Eddie raises his eyebrows as Buck rolls his sleeves up. 

“Restaurant supply store,” Buck answers, before anyone can ask the question they’re all thinking. “I was there anyway, picking up some new cutting mats; they had it on display, and this way you can still see the sweater.” 

Everyone shrugs and nods, knowing that the answer makes perfect sense coming from Buck. The party moves on, everyone gathering around the kitchen table to pass sprinkles and piping bags back and forth. The kids are clustered at one end of the table, designing more traditional cookies – trees and snowflakes and gingerbread men. Everyone else is working with the same cookie shapes, but almost immediately, it turns to inside jokes and references to the years they’ve known each other. 

Eventually, Hen holds up a gingerbread man, frosted white with a blue smile and messy lines around its neck. 

“Here, Buckaroo, I made one for you! It matches your sweater.” She laughs like it’s the funniest joke in the world, and now that Eddie knows what he’s looking at, he can see what she’s going for. The swirling lines are the doughboy’s cravat, the squiggles at the top of the head are meant to be the hat. 

She’s by no means a professional, but he can see it. 

“Yeah, how much was the sponsorship for, anyway?” Chimney interjects before anyone can comment on Hen’s cookie. “Or did they pay you in cinnamon rolls?” 

“You wish, man.” Buck rolls his eyes and flicks an M&M at him. “This was Maddie’s idea of a gag gift a few years ago. Joke’s on her, though. I love it.” He wiggles his shoulders like he’s preening. “Flea market find back east, but it’s crazy comfortable. And you know us, the Buckley siblings love a good pun.” 

No one can argue with that; they’ve all been on the receiving end of Buck’s sense of humor too many times to count, seen Bobby glare at him during a call for a funny, but ill-timed, remark. 

“Is this what I’m getting myself into?” Chimney groans, and Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Please, she told me what you said making dinner the other night.” 

Chim flushes, and Athena looks between the two men. 

“Care to share with the class?” she deadpans. It hardly seems possible, but Eddie thinks Chim’s face goes even redder. 

“ANYWAY,” he all but shouts, making everyone look up quizzically. It’s a lot of reaction, and Eddie wonders what, exactly, Chim had said, and why, exactly, he doesn’t want everyone to hear. He feels his eyes widen as a handful of ideas cross his mind, the sorts of things he and Buck say to each other in the kitchen when Chris isn’t home. “Great sweater, Buck. What a lovely gift from your caring and generous sister.” 

The group laughs at Chimney’s outburst, but lets it drop, moving on to rehashing which call was the most absurd of the year. 

Eddie can’t focus on that, though – even though he knows he could make an excellent case for the man who’d called 911 with muffled and incoherent complaints; they’d arrived to find that he’d tried to kiss his pet rattlesnake goodnight and she’d bitten him on the tongue. Instead, he leans over and nudges Buck’s arm with an elbow, moves in close enough to rest his chin on Buck’s shoulder. 

This sweater is softer than he’d expected, and he doesn’t have to say anything else. He has Buck’s attention, and Buck knows exactly what information he’s silently asking for. 

Eddie’s not sure he wants to know what Chim had said, but he does know that he’s curious enough to risk it. Besides, if it were anything that terrible, Buck probably wouldn’t have brought it up in front of their coworkers. 

“What’s a chicken’s least favorite day of the week?” He turns his head to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “ _Fry-_ day.” 

Eddie snorts, turning his face into Buck’s shoulder and disguising the noise as a cough as he leans back upright. 

_Sometimes he has no idea why he wants to be a part of this family._

The joke plays on a loop through his head as he looks around, takes in the scene in front of him. Everyone is smiling, except Hen’s face is knotted up in concentration. She doesn’t look unhappy, just focused on her next masterpiece. There’s Christmas music in the background, largely drowned out by cheerful chatter and bright laughter. At the other end of the table, May is leaning into Christopher’s space, helping him line up the decorations on his cookie. They’re both smiling, and when Chris points at something, May swipes enough frosting onto the end of his nose to stick a piece of candy there. 

Chris laughs and looks up, trying to find Eddie in the crowd. By the time he does, Eddie’s already waving and reaching for his phone. He calls May’s name, and she turns, wrapping an arm around Chris’ shoulder. It’s such a familiar gesture, so comfortable, that his chest goes tight for a moment, wishing he could give Chris an older sibling, until he remembers that he’s already got several, and they’re all right here with him. 

Eddie’s gaze turns to Buck as he puts his phone away. Buck, piping evenly sized dots along the edges of a snowflake cookie, as naturally talented at this as he seems to be at everything. He must sense that he’s being watched, because he looks up and smiles, holding the cookie up for Eddie to see. He pulls his phone back up at that, takes a picture of Buck as well, bakery-neat cookie, ugly sweater and all. 

_Oh, yeah. These moments. That’s why._


	10. Chapter 10

Eddie fastens the top button on his dress shirt, lifting the collar up to slide a tie around his neck. He shifts his shoulders back and forth, fighting against the starchiness of the brand new shirt as he twists the silk into an even knot, tucked against the center of his throat. 

He smiles at himself in the mirror as he smooths it out and reaches for his sportscoat, remembering how excited Buck had sounded on the phone as he scrolled through the online menu Eddie had sent him after he booked the table for their Christmas date. 

They’re three days early, but sue him, he’s got plans on the 25th - knows Buck does too, because they’re the same plans – and still wants to treat his boyfriend to something nice. 

It’s a good menu, he has to admit, but he’d agreed with Buck, who’d said that he was mostly excited to get dressed up for the holidays and spend a nice night together. Eddie hadn’t pressed the issue, but when he mentioned that he’d picked up a new dress shirt, he figured Buck would get the message. 

Still, as he drives across town to Buck’s apartment, he’s only half-sure he’s not going to have to find a way to talk him out of whatever chunky, colorful sweater he’s picked today. Not that he doesn’t love Buck in whatever he’s wearing, but that this is a _nice_ restaurant, the kind that requires a collared shirt to get in the door, a note he remembers seeing at the top of the online menu. 

It’s considerably fancier than they usually go for, but after everything they’ve been through this year, Eddie wants it to be a nice treat for them both. 

So he’s pleased to see Buck swing himself into the Jeep wearing a nice quarter-zip sweater, white dress shirt and red tie poking out from the collar. The necktie brings it all together, almost exactly the same shade as the red design knitted into the navy blue sweater. This time, though, the sweater is classy – red deer and white snowflake stitches across Buck’s chest, in a way that makes him look festive, not gaudy. Somehow, he looks just as at home in this outfit as he has everything else he’s worn the last several days. 

Eddie leans across the console to kiss him hello, runs his hand up to Buck’s shoulder and notices that the material beneath his hands feels high-quality. It's smooth, soft in a warm-feeling way, like the sort of sweater you would wear for a special occasion. 

His chest warms with the realization that this means as much to Buck as it does to him, and he slides his hand away to find Buck’s fingers as he leans back to his seat and pulls away from the curb. 

They don’t say much in the car, other than to comment on the holiday displays in front of the stores and houses they’re driving past. There’s always something for them to discuss, but Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s felt so comfortable _not_ talking to someone he’s sitting two feet away from. 

As soon as they’re seated, Buck looks around the dining room, and Eddie can see him marveling at the decorations. He’d be lying if he said he weren’t impressed himself, with the narrow Christmas tree ornately decorated in the middle of the restaurant, tiny candles flickering on every flat surface. They order wine and calamari, tucked away into a little corner booth, just enough privacy that they’re not worried about anyone sneaking up on them. 

The conversation flows easily once the appetizer arrives. They bounce from topic to topic, everything from work to stories of teenage foolishness, eventually landing on how grown up Chris is becoming, even in the two short years since Buck met him. 

(It feels like forever, but also like yesterday, muddied in the way that only the best memories are.) 

Eddie starts telling stories about the time he spent with Chris before they left El Paso, Buck listening eagerly as he recounts Chris’ first swear word. 

“So there we are, at my parents’ for Sunday dinner, like a month after Shannon left. Mom and Dad were already convinced I couldn’t take care of Chris on my own, trying to talk me into moving back in with them, giving him a ‘proper upbringing,’ when he drops his cup on the floor and the juice splatters. 

“And as if grape juice on my mom’s rug weren’t bad enough, he looks down at it and says ‘fuck, Daddy! It spilled!’ I was ready for the floor to open up and swallow me, just from the way Mom was glaring at me. To this day, I still couldn’t tell you where he heard that.” 

Buck is on the edge of his seat through the whole story, sipping idly from his glass of ice water. Or, sipping idly until Eddie gets to the part where Chris drops the F-bomb. At that point, he tries to laugh around the water in his mouth, and only succeeds in dribbling it down the front of his sweater. He jerks back, narrowly managing to avoid hitting his head on the back of the booth and reaches for his napkin. 

Eddie watches him blot at the wet spot soaking into the fabric. He can’t help but follow the movement, and finds himself wondering how a grown man can be so endearing, even when he’s spilling water all over himself. He’s dabbing furiously across his chest, wiping away as much of the water as he can from where the back legs of two of the deer are, moving up to where their bodies are joined. 

_Where their bodies are … joined._

He looks more closely then, sees that there are actually _two knitted bucks_ on each side of Buck’s chest, engaged in inappropriate acts. One of them is upright, overlapping the other with its front legs resting on the bottom deer’s back. Eddie’s ashamed to admit that for a second, he wonders if the size of the antlers is indicative of the size of … _no, not the time or the place for that._

It’s … obscene, to say the least, especially for a garment that otherwise looks so dressy. 

_He cannot believe Buck right now._

“Buck, seriously?” Eddie shakes his head, trying to keep his voice down. 

“What?” Buck’s hand freezes and he looks up, staring curiously. “It’s just water; it won’t stain.” 

But Eddie isn’t even thinking about the spill anymore, so he tries again. 

“To a nice dinner? Really?” 

“What? People spill, Eddie. Even in nice restaurants. It happens.” This time, he rolls his eyes, and Eddie gestures vaguely toward his chest. 

“Not the spill. The sweater.” 

At that, Buck looks down, sets the napkin on the table to pull the sweater out and look down at it. From his perspective, the design would be upside down, but Eddie is sure it’s still clear enough. 

_“What?”_ Buck repeats himself, staring at his own chest. “I know I said it was ugly sweater season, Eds, but this isn’t really the venue for-” 

“For the love of God,” Eddie mutters, then leans across the table to hiss at Buck. “The deer are having sex!” 

“Wha-” Buck leans back, looks down again, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head when he realizes what Eddie has been seeing. “Oh. _Oh._ Oh my God. _Oh my God._ They're … the deer are …" 

“Yeah,” Eddie smirks. Now that he knows Buck hadn’t done this intentionally, hadn’t let his love of tacky Christmas sweaters sabotage their nice evening together, the entire scene is amusing. Buck is all flustered, cheeks as red as his tie, mouth dropping open and snapping closed, hands all over his chest, trying to cover up his realization. It shouldn’t be, but it’s adorable, and Eddie is quickly losing the battle against his laughter. “They are. They’re also _bucks.”_

Honestly, he’d figured that the play on words had contributed to Buck’s wardrobe decision, but he’s clearly just putting the pieces together on that as well. 

“Shit. I-I didn’t …" 

“I’m getting that impression.” There’s amusement lacing his tone, too much for him to hide. 

“Do you think anyone else noticed it?” Buck seems genuinely mortified, and it’s finally enough for Eddie to feel a little bit bad for chuckling. He's not upset, not now that he knows it was a mix-up, but Buck is clearly embarrassed, and Eddie doesn’t want to laugh at him for that. 

“If they did, they didn’t say anything.” It’s the truth; Eddie hasn’t noticed anyone looking at Buck any different than they would if he’d been wearing a solid colored sweater. Still, Buck’s shoulders are curling in, his arms folding across his chest uncomfortably, trying to hide himself from view. He’s almost never shy, usually craves attention, but now he’s shrinking around himself. 

Eddie hates it. 

He hates seeing Buck uneasy like this, like he’s trying to decide if he can just remove the sweater right here, in the corner of the dining room, or if that would raise too much attention. 

Eddie doesn’t give him the chance to find out, though. Instead, he stands up, slides his sleeves out of his own jacket and takes the couple of steps to stand next to Buck’s side of the booth. 

“Here, lean forward,” he says, when Buck turns to look at him. Buck complies, and Eddie slides the jacket around his shoulders. He lets one hand linger, draws it slowly across Buck’s shoulder blades before he sits back down. “There, now no one else will see.” 

Buck smiles at him, soft and genuine, and slips his hands into the sleeves. For a moment, it looks like he’s getting ready to say something, but he just smiles again and takes a careful sip of his wine. 

“And for the record?” Eddie breaks the silence, reaching for Buck’s hand when he puts the glass down, runs his thumb across Buck’s knuckles. “Sweater choices aside, my jacket is a really good look on you.” 


	11. Chapter 11

Eddie fills a plastic cup with punch and finds seats for himself and Chris at the long folding table Bobby has set up in the garage. He’s careful to pick a section with three open spots, hangs his sweatshirt across the back of the extra chair, even though he knows that everyone will leave the seat for Buck. 

He’s not sure how they’ve pulled it off, a second Station Christmas, but last year was such a rousing success that everyone knew they needed to figure something out. The trucks are on the driveway, people from every shift crew turning up with their families, someone brought the tree from the common area down and plugged it in against one wall. The tree is surrounded with presents from an intricately organized Secret Santa, and Bobby is smoking a ham behind the station. The smell wafts in, adding to the sense of merriment among them. 

Everyone is wearing something festive, from the rhinestone wreath broach adorning Athena’s sweater, to Denny’s jingling reindeer headband. Chimney seems to have looked for the easy way out and taped a bow to his forehead, but Maddie is making up for it in a candy cane-striped dress. 

It must run in the family. 

Because Eddie’s hardly settled into his seat when he’s standing up again, having caught a flash of blonde hair that he’d recognize anywhere. He’s staggering across the driveway, clearly struggling under the weight of the large box in his arms, taking tiny steps to keep it from sliding out of his grasp. There’s a baking dish balanced precariously across the top, and Buck’s back is bowed trying to keep it level. 

Bobby sees the struggle at the same time Eddie does, but has the advantage of already being halfway across the garage when he starts toward Buck. He reaches up and pulls the pan off of the box, probably moments before it was likely to fall to the ground, as Buck stumbled on the lip of the garage floor. 

As soon as the dessert – brownies, Eddie thinks, by the smell – is safe, Buck drops the box carefully and pushes it the rest of the way across the floor toward the tree. He crouches down to empty the box, stacking neatly wrapped presents underneath the tree. Eddie trails over to join him, knocks their hips together when he bends down next to Buck and reaches into the box to help. 

He looks at the names as they arrange the presents, and notices that there’s one for every kid there, because of course Buck would pick a gift for everyone else’s kid, even though he hardly knows some of these people. 

“They’re stuffed elves,” Buck whispers, when he notices Eddie turning one over in his hands. “Don’t worry, I’ve got Chris’ other gifts at home still.” 

Eddie wonders briefly what else there could be for Chris, knows how many boxes under his own tree have Buck’s name at the bottom. But he can’t find the words to ask about it, not before Denny is throwing himself across Buck’s back. 

Buck stands up, taking the weight easily, and wraps his arms around Denny’s legs to give him a piggyback ride. It’s only then that Eddie can see his torso well enough to notice that his bright green sweater is covered in tinsel garland and plastic ornaments, dangling loose across the front. It’s certainly festive, but not in a way to create any confusion about what he’s going for, other than _Christmas._

“You match!” He shouts, and Eddie notices that Buck hides a wince at the volume directly in his ear. The adults chuckle politely, as Buck confirms for Denny that he does, in fact, match, without clarifying what, exactly, he matches with. Eddie can’t be positive that Buck himself knows the answer, but knows that he’d never admit it to Denny and risk squelching his enthusiasm. 

Denny doesn’t seem to notice the round of confused glances passing over his head. He’s perfectly happy to let Buck parade him around while his antlers jingle, announcing their approach as they circle the room a few times. 

But then Bobby is coming back in, carrying a large platter with a mouthwatering ham on it, and everyone is scrambling for their seats. 

Even though it’s a station-wide party, everyone seems to end up sitting in clusters by their shifts, grouping off with the people they already know. It’s how the entire crew ends up in the same section of the table, beside and across from the people they see and hear about every day. 

There isn’t much conversation to be had, though. Just the sounds of silverware clicking against itself, the occasional slurp as someone’s cup runs dry. They see each other enough, know one another’s lives well enough that they can take the time out and focus on the delicious meal in front of them, the warm, familiar company all around. 

Until, that is, Denny pulls on Karen’s sleeve and whispers something to her. They’re just far enough down the table that Eddie can’t pick out the question, but Karen responds loudly enough for everyone to hear. 

“Sure, you can ask him something, honey. You know Buck doesn’t bite.” Ah, so she’s trying to give Buck a heads up, which he takes and asks Denny what he wants to know. 

Eddie hardly registers that part of the exchange, too busy biting back a comment about how Buck only bites _sometimes,_ and really only ever bites Eddie. He tunes back in just in time for the question at hand. 

“Why isn’t there a star at the top of your tree?” He asks the question bluntly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and leaves all of the adults to come to the realization at the same time: 

Buck’s sweater turns _him_ into a Christmas tree. He matches the tree in the corner, covered in tinsel and colorful ornaments. 

“Well, you see, Denny,” Buck grins and looks around as he responds, pretty clearly addressing the whole group. “I thought about it. But why would I add a star when there’s already an angel right here?” 

He folds his hands under his chin, bats his eyelashes playfully, and all the kids laugh. The adults don’t comment, but Eddie can see the eye rolls when Chris opens his mouth. 

“Yeah! Buck matches the angel on the tree at home too! They’ve got the same color hair, but the tree angel’s is longer and more curlier.” 

If he’d have said anything else, Eddie would have been irritated that his friends weren’t even trying to hide their exasperation. This is his kid, after all, and he never wants Chris to feel like people don’t care about what he’s saying. 

But now? Just this once? He’s inclined to agree. All Chris has done is play into Buck’s hand here, reinforce his over-the-top cheesy sweater idea. And as much as Eddie loves Buck’s creative spirit, he’s got to admit that it’s kind of funny when Chim cocks his head and gives Buck a once-over. 

“Funny, I don’t see an angel on your side of the table.” 

“OK,” Hen interjects, clapping her hands as she tries to change the topic, drawing the word into several syllables. “Did I see a pan of those famous Buckaroo Brownies go by?” 

Everyone seems to get the message, and Bobby stands up to go retrieve the pan from where he’d hidden it from prying fingers until after dinner. But as soon as he turns away, Buck leans across the table toward Chim and blurts his response out all in one breath. 

“It’s me, I’m the angel.” 

Eyes start rolling again, and Eddie figures that he should distract Buck from this before it gets out of hand in front of their coworkers who don’t know Buck’s sense of humor so well. So he leans over and steals a kiss as Buck settles back in his seat. 

“The hell you are,” he whispers against Buck’s lips, then squeezes his shoulder as he stands up and points to where Bobby is setting up the desserts table. “C’mon, _angel,_ I want a corner piece.” 


	12. Chapter 12

Eddie hears the door open, and something thumps against the frame as Buck comes into the house. He’s not sure what a cast iron skillet sounds like on a doorjamb, but he’s got a feeling that it’s what he just heard. Because he knows Buck is cooking dinner tonight, can’t help but roll his eyes fondly at the empty kitchen when he remembers how Buck had gasped when he said that they usually just boiled them for Christmas Eve dinner. 

“Eddie,” Buck had clapped a hand against his chest dramatically. “Hot dogs on Christmas Eve is a valid, time-honored tradition, and I respect that. But _boiled?_ Are you kidding me?” 

He’d insisted on bringing his own skillet, assured Eddie that he’d be able to taste the difference between a pan-seared hot dog and a “boiled sausage tragedy.” 

Eddie had just kissed the next protest from his mouth and promised that Buck could cook them, as long as it was OK with Christopher. 

Christopher, who Eddie can hear in the other room, leading Buck by the hand into the kitchen. 

“Dad! Dad, look! It’s Santa! On a _unicorn!”_ Chris is right; tonight’s sweater is black, flecked with tiny white stitches that Eddie thinks are meant to be stars. In the middle, sure enough, is Santa Claus sitting atop a unicorn. Presumably, they’re flying through space, if the candy cane-swirled planet on his shoulder is anything to go by. And … fighting aliens? There’s a toy bag in one of Santa’s hands, but the other is brandishing a bright green sword, like he’s getting ready to ride into battle. 

“It sure is!” Eddie isn’t sure what else he’s supposed to respond, but agreeing with the exclamation feels like a safe answer. 

“Do you think Santa will bring my toys on a unicorn tonight?” He’s bouncing on his toes, balanced between his crutches, and Eddie thinks he might actually launch into the air if he doesn’t settle down before long. 

“He might,” he replies, trying to keep his tone level without negating Chris’ enthusiasm. “But I think unicorns like reindeer food too, so Santa won’t have any trouble finding us.” 

Chris accepts it without question, and the conversation turns to dinner. Buck lets him help every step of the way, passing the hot dogs over for Buck to slice down the middle, helping carefully flip them over in the skillet when the open sides are perfectly crisp and buttering the buns to toast in the oven. 

Eddie has to admit that he’s right: the pan-seared hot dogs do taste better than boiled. It’s the best Christmas Eve dinner he can remember, but he knows that goes beyond the food. It’s in the memories they’re making, how excited Chris is for Eddie to taste the hot dog he helped cook, how seamlessly their lives all fit together. 

And after dinner, it’s in Buck presenting Christopher a set of brand new Christmas PJs, flannel button-up printed with red and green fair isle. It’s not quite an ugly sweater, but definitely reminiscent of Buck’s wardrobe the last few weeks. 

Chris is _so excited_ to wear them, to the point that it’s all Eddie can do to get him in the bathtub to scrub off before he changes clothes. Finally, Buck points out that new jammies feel even better when you’re nice and clean, and Eddie is once again grateful for the role Buck has taken in both of their lives. 

Once he’s cleaned up and dressed, Eddie helps Chris toss the sparkly oatmeal “reindeer food” on the front porch – and makes a mental note to go sweep some of it up later – and pick which of the homemade cookies he wants to set out with the glass of milk Buck is helping pour for Santa. 

At Chris’ urging, they agree that Santa probably would like chocolate milk better, and Buck lets him squeeze in a healthy squirt of syrup, wipes up the milk that sloshes over the rim of the glass as Chris stirs. They hang all three stockings from the oven door (the closest compromise Buck was able to help them reach when Chris remembered that they don’t have a fireplace. 

“It’s a gas oven,” he’d pointed out. “There's a flame in the bottom, just like a fireplace. We’ll leave the door unlocked and I’m _positive_ that Santa will know exactly where to look.”) 

All three of them pile onto Chris’ twin bed and together, Buck and Eddie read _The Night Before Christmas._ Buck has a knack for character voices, some innate ability to make his Santa sound gruff and no-nonsense, but still like a jolly old elf, while Eddie’s narrative skills could be lifted right out of a movie trailer. 

Once Santa has driven out of sight, shouting “merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,” they exchange hugs and kisses, flicking the lamp off as they leave Chris to his sugarplum dreams. 

Eddie pulls the door closed as he and Buck turn back toward the living room. Buck eats his way through the plate of cookies, careful to leave half a cookie and lots of crumbs on the plate, and drinks the milk. There's nothing to prove, so he doesn’t even try to hide his grimace at the sheer volume of chocolate flavoring thick at the bottom of the glass. Meanwhile, Eddie takes care of the reindeer food and fills Buck’s stocking. Buck tosses a tea towel over the top of Eddie’s when it’s finished, covering the top opening so Eddie can’t see what’s inside until tomorrow. 

Together, they fill Chris’ stocking and arrange the last few surprises underneath the tree, then collapse onto the couch together. Eddie settles himself against Buck’s chest and brings one hand up to trace across the design on his sweater. He connects the stars, runs his finger around the planet and smiles where his face covers the sword. 

“You know,” he murmurs, breaking the silence between them. “I think I might actually miss seeing you in all these holiday sweaters.” 

“Mmm?” Buck slowly processes what Eddie’s just said, opening his eyes and fighting off the edges of sleep. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, they’ve started to grow on me. In fact,” Eddie tips his chin up far enough that he can see the side of Buck’s face. “maybe I'll have to get one next year.” 

At that, Buck starts shifting underneath him, and Eddie sits up entirely. 

“Buck?” They face each other. 

“What if … you didn’t have to wait for next year?” Buck wrings his hands, twisting and untwisting his fingers as he tries to look Eddie in the eye. Eddie’s not sure why he’s suddenly so nervous, but he reaches out and wraps his hands around Buck’s, stilling them as he squeezes gently. “I mean, it’s not a sweater, but I … I might have picked something up for you too.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, it’s as much for Christopher, but I figured we could surprise him again in the morning.” 

Buck stands up and goes to rummage behind the tree. He’s clearly looking for one present in particular, and after a moment, he holds it up in triumph, then passes it to Eddie. 

Whatever it is, it’s squishy, slack in his hold, but still wrapped up neatly with a shimmery gold bow on top. 

“What is this?” 

“A present,” Buck rolls his eyes playfully. “Generally, people open them to find out what’s inside.” 

Eddie laughs as he tears at the paper, already knowing that he’ll love whatever’s inside, just because Buck picked it for him. 

And when he sees what’s inside, he knows that Chris will love it too. 

Sure enough, he wakes them up at 6 o’clock sharp, gasping as soon as they both sit up in bed and he’s able to see what they’re wearing. 

And first thing on the 26th, Buck finds himself standing at the Walgreens photo counter, flipping through the stack of prints he’s just picked up. 

There’s the three of them in the king sized bed, plates of pancakes balanced on their laps as Buck holds the phone and Eddie tickles Chris’ sides. Then a candid of Eddie, struggling to figure out the wires on Chris’ new video game console. Buck holds up the book Eddie had given him, a storm chaser memoir he’d picked up at the bookstore after their ill-fated Christmas date, beaming as he points at the cover. The next picture is Chris, laying on the floor in a pile of wadded up wrapping paper, making haphazard snow angels on the carpet. 

Every picture is a little different than the one before it, but in every single one, they’re all dressed the same, in matching red and green Christmas pajamas. 

Buck slides the pictures back into the envelope, and starts to make his way toward the exit. He stops in front of the half-off Christmas shelf, though, reaches for an ornament that catches his eye. 

It’s a picture frame, in the shape of a brightly colored sweater, and Buck knows exactly which picture he wants to put in it. He tucks the ornament in his hand and heads back for the photo kiosk to get a smaller copy of the pancake selfie, where all three of them are matching in PJs and smiles. 

It’ll be the perfect memory of their first Christmas as a family, of the new memories they’ve built together, ugly sweaters and all. 

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it! I'll be back in a few days with my next fic!


End file.
